


Day 6: Death Rides A Whore

by MindfulWrath



Series: The Week of Terrible Fiction [6]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Abuse, Castration, Eye Trauma, F/M, Gore, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindfulWrath/pseuds/MindfulWrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or as I like to call it, "How Yogswest Really Should Have Ended"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 6: Death Rides A Whore

Ridge was a sucker for a beautiful woman, and this one knew it. She'd caught his eye from all the way down the street and had been reeling him in by it, one flirty little glance at a time. Of course, her eyes hadn't been nearly the only thing _he'd_ been looking at, but he figured that was only fair, since she had it all out to be looked at anyways.

He leaned a shoulder up against the wall and pushed his hat back, and he smiled his easiest smile at her and made no attempt to look like he _wasn't_ already undressing her in his head.

"Ain't you just the sweetest li'l morsel I ever set eyes on," he remarked.

Her full lips curled into a smile, and she cocked a hip out. She didn't have the curves she ought to, but _boyish_ was just as far up Ridge's alley as _feminine,_ albeit in the other direction.

"Am I to be flattered, _señor?"_ she asked, a Mexican accent light on her tongue. Her eyes were dark, but gleamed with amusement.

"If I feel like flatterin' you," Ridge said. "Depends mightily on how well you take it."

Her eyes narrowed and her smile widened. "I take many things, _señor,"_ she demurred. "All of them very well."

He threw his head back and laughed. The only thing he liked more than a beautiful woman was an _easy_ one.

"Well goddamn, you sure as hell don't mess around, do you," he said. "How much you chargin'?"

"How much can you afford?" she retorted.

His jaw tightened, although he didn't stop smiling. "Keep _that_ shit up and I'll be havin' it all for free," he said.

Her eyes flashed, and her smile did not waver.

"Fifty dollars, _señor,_ and I am yours for the night," she offered.

"Bullshit," said Ridge. "You ain't worth twenty."

"No," she agreed. "I am priceless. But for you, fifty."

"You sass me one more fuckin' time and I'm gonna beat the shit outta you," he informed her happily. "And then I'm _still_ gonna get you for free, and a lot less noisy."

"Yes, _señor. Lo siento."_

But she did not look sorry. She looked like she was laughing at him.

"I tell you what," he said, rage rising bright and hot in his chest. "I'll give you fifteen to let me fuck you all night. If you're real good, I might let you have another five come mornin', assumin' you use that mouth of yours for somethin' other than moanin' my name."

She looked at him for a long moment, then dropped her eyes and inclined her head.

"You will have to tell me your name, _señor,"_ she said.

"Ridge," he said. "I also answer to _God, please,_ and _more."_

She smiled again, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was amused _at_ him, rather than _by_ him.

"What?" he snapped, irritated. "What the fuck're you smilin' at?"

"I think your names will taste very sweet," she said. "And I think so will you."

He smiled, relaxing. Now _that_ was better talk for a whore.

"So you tell me yours," he said. "Elsewise I'm just gonna be callin' you _dirty bitch_ all damn night, and while that ain't inaccurate, it might get a li'l bland after a time."

She met his eyes again, clearly amused.

"You have not earned my name, _señor,"_ she told him. "Perhaps I will tell you if you fuck me very well."

Ridge seized her by the throat and slammed her into the wall, just around the corner, just inside the alley she'd been lurking by.

"You don't cut that shit out I'm gonna fuck you right here and now like the whore you are," he snarled. "And then I'm gonna beat you unconscious, and then I'm gonna fuck you _again,_ and then I'm gonna hand you off to any sonnuva bitch walkin' by and take a five dollar commission 'til I'm goddamn rich offa folks fuckin' you silly. _You fuckin' understand me, you little bitch?"_

"Yes, _señor,"_ she croaked.

He kissed her, rough and mean enough to bruise her lips, enough to get himself hard. She kissed back, like a whore ought to, and he grabbed her breast and squeezed, pressing her hard against the wall. She arched her back and pressed into him, one of her hands sliding between his legs. She palmed his cock, and he growled his pleasure, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. He pulled back, keeping her lip between his teeth until it wouldn't stretch any further.

"Know what?" he said pensively, massaging her breast. "Think I don't even _wanna_ know your name. From now, your name's _whore._ You like that name, whore?"

"Yes, _señor,"_ she said dutifully.

He took his hand off her throat and grabbed her wrist, hauling her hand away from his groin and pinning it, too, to the wall. Then he pressed himself against her, reveling in the friction and the heat.

"Thinkin' I might have you once here, 'fore I take you back to my room," he mused. "You like that idea, whore? You wanna get fucked right here in front of God and everybody?"

"Oh, _yes, señor,"_ she breathed, her eyes half-lidded, her hips pressed up against his. "Take me, I am yours."

Ridge looked back over his shoulder. The streets weren't empty, but there were few people about. It was a dark night, chilly, and no one was paying him much mind. He turned his eyes back to his whore.

"Don't mind if I do," he said. He let go of her wrist and knelt briefly to get his hands under her skirts. He dragged his palms up her bare legs, gripped her thighs and lifted her up to sit against his hips. He could feel her humid warmth through his trousers and it made him ache.

"Get your damn hands to work, whore," he told her, and started kissing her again, pushing his tongue into her mouth, tasting every part of her he could reach. Her fingers were deft and nimble, undoing his belt and then his trousers, teasing his cock out and caressing it. He grunted and sunk his teeth into her neck, hitched her up a little higher against the wall and forced himself into her, making her take his whole length at once. She cried out, and he ran his tongue up her neck.

"Now's about the time you start usin' my names, whore," he murmured into her ear, beginning to thrust, in and out, slow as he pleased. She was warm and tight around him, not yet wet but getting there under his ministrations. He ran his tongue along the shell of her ear, tracing the contours around until he reached the cavity. He slid his tongue inside and swirled it around, and his whore stiffened and gasped. He gave her a particularly rough thrust, knocking her tailbone against the wall.

_"Say my name, whore,"_ he growled, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs.

"Ridge," she breathed into his ear. "Oh, yes, Ridge, please, I want more. . . ."

_"Fuck,"_ he hissed, and abandoned all his subtlety, fucking her hard and relentlessly, bruising her against the wall again and again while she moaned and dug her fingernails into his shoulders, while she grew loose and dripping wet around him. He put his tongue back in her ear and let it mirror the thrusting of his cock, driving his whore to moan louder and louder. He could feel the attention of passers by on his back, could feel their blushes and their jealousy, and it was electric in his veins.

He drew precariously close to the edge of orgasm, his belly swelling hot and aching with impending release, and he forced himself to slow down, to take his whore in long, slow strokes, to make her _writhe_ with need for him.

"You gonna cum, bitch?" he asked her, breathless. "You gonna cum screamin' my name?"

"Yes," she whimpered, bucking her hips against his in desperation. "Yes, Ridge, please, make me cum, make me scream, please!"

"We-hell, when you ask so damn nicely," he said.

And he pulled out of her and dropped her to the ground. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her head back, grinning down at her.

"Clean me up, whore," he said. "Maybe I'll make you cum when I got you in my room."

She shut her eyes and put one hand on his thigh, the other on his balls, and ran her tongue along the underside of his cock. He shivered and cursed through his teeth, and she went on licking her own wetness from him, never taking him into her mouth until he jammed his fingers between her teeth and forced himself in. She took him all the way to the base, rolling her tongue against him, her pace swift and eager. He came on her tongue, moaning and stiffening, then pushed himself back into her throat to feel her swallow around him. When he was satisfied, he pulled her off of him and yanked her back to her feet. He wiped the spit off his cock with her dress, then shoved her into the wall and kissed her again, fingering her while she squirmed.

When he decided she'd had enough, he stepped back and let her dress fall to cover her again. He stuck his wet finger between her lips and let her suckle it while he tucked his cock away and fastened up his trousers.

"Ain't but a fifteen minute walk to my place," he remarked. "Might be I'll be ready to fuck you again by then. Elsewise I'm just gonna have you touch yourself 'til I am. You like that idea, whore?"

She clung onto his arm and breathed, _"Yes."_

He grinned at her. "Damn, I'm gonna have me a good night," he remarked.

* * *

 

By the time he got her back to his room, she'd stopped squirming quite so much, so he pinned her up against the door and took her dress off, ripping where he couldn't be bothered to unlace. Once he had her naked, he carried her to the bed and threw her down on it, then set about tasting every last inch of her flesh, biting and licking, suckling her nipples. When she was good and squirmy again, pressing her hips up into his thigh, he got off the bed and stepped back.

"Ain't feelin' it just yet, whore," he said, though his cock was beginning to swell. "Go on, gimme a show."

"Yes, _señor,"_ she murmured, and lay the fingertips of one hand on her chest. She trailed them down, between her breasts, over her stomach, between her legs. Her fingers dipped between her lips and her back arched, her eyes closed. She moaned, cupping her breast in her other hand and squeezing. She began to work herself, bucking her hips in slow rhythm, low moans tumbling between her lips. She took it slow, building and building and building until she was gasping for breath, until she was writhing under her own ministrations.

She started crying out his name, helpless with need, and Ridge fell upon her.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands to the bed, kissed her until he tasted blood, and she writhed underneath him, desperate for him. He abandoned his grip on her wrists and fumbled his cock out, so hard it hurt, and he grabbed her hips and took her in one sharp thrust, and she cried out and came, tightening around him, her whole body wracked with the intensity of it.

He kept on fucking her, and she kept on crying his name, begging for more, more, more, driving him mad with the sound of her voice. Beautifully, she came _again,_ clutching at the pillows and writhing, her breath driven from her. Ridge could not hold himself together, not with the way she squeezed and twitched and trembled around him, and he came inside her, deep and warm and wet. The orgasm flooded his whole body, pouring from his mouth in a full-throated moan, tightening his hands on her hips, rolling waves of liquid fire out under his skin. It left him floating, dizzy, exhausted, and he draped himself atop his whore, kissed and licked the sweat from her slender neck, staying deep inside her while his cock went soft.

"For an ornery li'l bitch," he murmured to her, "you sure are a damn good lay."

"Thank you, _señor,"_ she demurred, trailing her fingernails down his back.

He grunted and pulled out of her, then shoved her off the bed.

"Gonna take me a li'l nap," he told her, rolling over to lie on his back. "Only way you oughtta wake me up is with your mouth on my cock. It's gonna be there after I wake up on my own anyhow."

"Yes, _señor,"_ she said.

Ridge shut his eyes and sighed, and let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

 

He came awake to the sensation of a mouth suckling his cock. He shifted, smiling to himself, and reached down to tangle his hands in the whore's hair.

"There's a good li'l whore," he said. "C'mon, I know you can take more'n that."

The lips drifted away, and she said, "No, _señor."_

He cracked open an eye, frowning. She was straddling his knees, still naked, her hands out of sight behind his thighs.

"The hell you talkin' about?" he demanded. The wet head of his cock was cold in the night air.

Her eyes flashed, and she smiled at him.

"There is only so much I can take," she said.

She brought her hands up swiftly, one of them clutching a brilliant silver knife—

—And Ridge went rigid with terror—

—And she brought the knife down with all her strength into the base of his cock.

Ridge screamed in agony, pain lancing through his whole body, burning up his nerves, turning his stomach and addling his brain. The whore brought the knife up and down again, striking through his cock, rupturing one of his balls and spraying blood and semen all over the bed, his legs, her body. He screamed again, trying to kick out at her, but his body was rendered uselessly clumsy by the blazing agony, and she struck again, and again, while he screamed and writhed, again and again until his groin was a bloodied pulp. She surged forward and plunged the knife into his abdomen, and pain burst through him again, knocking the breath from his lungs.

Again and again, she drove the knife into him, her teeth bared in a feral snarl, blood spattering her face and body, drenching her hands, spraying the bed and the walls and the ceiling. The pain was unending, unabating, and Ridge tried to push her away, tried to struggle free.

She cut his arms when he touched her, struck one of his fingers down to the bone and flayed the flesh from it. Up and down the knife went, sinking into his flesh over and over, its rhythm swift and relentless. He fought until his limbs would not obey him, until the pain filled him up and flooded out everything else, and then he squirmed underneath her, unable to breathe, unable to feel anything but pain and the slow horror of approaching death.

She moved again to sit upon his chest, put a bloodsoaked hand on his forehead. She put the tip of the knife over his eye and pressed it in, slowly. He found a scream still hiding somewhere inside him and let it scrabble out of his lips on a tide of blood.

The knife went in up to the hilt, and then she pulled it almost all the way out, sunk it back in again, fucking his eyesocket with the blade until there was nothing but a bloody ruin, rocking her hips against his mangled flesh as she did so, soaking herself with his blood.

As darkness encroached around him, he could see her smiling through the one eye she'd left him.

"You were not very good, _señor,"_ she told him, her voice soft, muffled by the roaring in his ears. The pain was so intense that his body was shutting down around him, going numb, going warm and distant. "You still did not earn my name."

She pulled the knife out of his eye slowly, almost tenderly, then bent her head and licked at the blood and ooze, let her tongue wander into the empty socket and caress the ruined flesh inside, the chipped bone of his skull.

Just before the darkness swallowed him, just as Death stole up pale and grinning, he felt her push the knife into his other eye. . . .


End file.
